


i'm trying to earn a set of feathery wings

by kyasuu



Series: could i get a side of triple identity porn with that? [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Fic, for Valentine's Day, this is gay and late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 02:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyasuu/pseuds/kyasuu
Summary: i wish i could protect you hereClint asks Tony out on a date, but it doesn't quite go as planned.





	i'm trying to earn a set of feathery wings

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Feathery Wings by Voltaire
> 
> this is late IM SORRY i have been bus y

“So,” Natasha drawls in that way that sets all of Clint’s alarm bells off, “Valentine’s Day is around the corner.” She stirs her drink with her straw lazily, green eyes slightly obscured by her black sunglasses as she peers at him closely.

“And?” Clint takes a cautious sip of his own smoothie, looking at his best friend warily. Despite her innocent posture and blank face, he has the feeling she’s up to something. One red eyebrow quirks slightly as she slurps noisily. As dignified as Natasha is on the battlefield and off it, she likes doing things like that to annoy people.

“Your thing with Tony,” Natasha elaborates, rolling her eyes like she can’t believe she has to spell it out for him. “We both know he’s never going to ask you out on a date first, so it’s up to you to grow a pair.”

Clint ignores the way her lips quirk up slightly when he feels his face grow slightly warm despite the cool chill of early February. “You called me here to talk about that, didn’t you,” he states, because he knows it’s a fact. “Meddler.”

“Guilty as charged.” Natasha shrugs nonchalantly. “At least I’m not badgering Tony about it. I know Steve and Bucky are probably trying to forcibly coax him into asking you out, since they think  _ they _ have their love lives sorted out, now that they’re done with that seventy year long UST period.”

Those idiots had been together for two weeks, tops. Clint snorts. “I suppose you’re so much better,” he replies pointedly with amusement coloring his tone. “Because you obviously didn’t dance around Phil for three years. And you obviously don’t have any interest in Pepper, either.”

Natasha huffs, sounding mildly annoyed and, to Clint’s eternal glee and triumph, embarrassed. “Shush,” she scolds. “We’re here to talk about Operation IronHawk.”

“What operation is there?” Clint asks, draining the rest of his smoothie. “What, get me to ask Tony out, go on a date?”

“We have to make sure the date goes smoothly,” Natasha points out. She takes another noisy slurp, and Clint watches as the couple behind her make faces.

“Tasha, no,” Clint says, squinting at her. “You are not interfering with Tony and I’s first date, and yes, I was already planning on it.”

“We won’t interfere unless there’s an issue.”

Clint is silent for a long moment. “You can only interfere if someone is going to get hurt,” he says. He scowls when Natasha opens her mouth. “I meant physically, not emotionally!”

Natasha shuts her mouth and doesn’t say anything for a short while. “I will not be held responsible for what happens to you if any feelings are hurt,” she says menacingly, tilting her sunglasses so Clint can meet her steely green eyes. They’re deadly serious.

“Yes, of course,” Clint agrees hastily, beginning to fear for his life slightly. “Put down your sunglasses, that’s Tony’s thing.”

“Duh,” Natasha scoffs, putting them back in place. “I learned it from him.”

* * *

 

Clint shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, standing at the workshop door. It’s taken a while to get used to, but after the whole identity reveal thing, Tony had taken to hanging out in the workshop more often. Or maybe he’d been there all along, and nobody knew. It would be likely, since nobody came down here.

“May I be of assistance to you, Agent Barton?” JARVIS inquires politely. Clint starts, looking towards the ceiling despite knowing JARVIS isn’t there. “My apologies. I assumed you required help because you typically do not enter through the door.”

“Sorry,” Clint says automatically, clearing his throat. “Is, uh, Tony in? I have something to ask him.”

“Sir is, indeed, in,” JARVIS answers, sounding amused. “And he says, I quote, ‘Get your ass in here, Barton.’”

The doors slide open automatically and Clint descends the stairs, spotting Tony bent over his work table. “Hey, Tony,” he calls, suddenly awkward and nervous. Irrationally so, especially since they had that dumb, sappy, middle school heart-to-heart.

Tony looks up from his work to look at Clint, a large smear of grease painted across his left cheek and his dark brown hair a rat’s nest, but his eyes are warm and delighted to see him, and Clint feels something embarrassingly warm spread between his ribs. “Clint,” he replies, and he says his name with something warm and soft and reserved only for Clint in his voice. “What brings you into the lair of the dragon?”

Clint grins fondly. “If JARVIS is the dragon, does that make you the princess and me your knight in shining armor?”

Tony wrinkles his nose adorably. “I meant that  _ I _ am clearly the fearsome dragon, and you can be part of my hoard.” He frowns. “Even if JARVIS was the dragon, I would need absolutely no rescuing. I am the most badass of princesses.”

“Of course,” Clint says agreeably, approaching Tony’s workbench. “So… I came down for a reason.”

“Mmhm? One other than filling up my life, I assume,” Tony replies, setting his tools down. He rubs absently at the grease on his cheek, spreading it further.

Clint’s mouth goes dry, and he pauses for a long moment, feeling his cheeks grow warm when Tony turns an inquisitive and mildly concerned gaze on him. “Uh,” he says, and clears his throat to try again. “Would you be… would you. Um. Would you like to go on a date? On Valentine’s Day?”

Tony blinks slowly at him, and Clint watches as he turns a delightful shade of red. The other opens his mouth, seemingly lost for words, before shutting it and nodding enthusiastically. “You’re asking me out?” he asks breathlessly, sounding so joyful Clint’s heart does something funny. “Because fuck yes. So many yes’s.”

Clint smiles so wide his cheeks hurt as the most beautiful grin stretches over Tony’s face, and knows this will be in his memory forever.

* * *

Clint wakes up to the annoying vibration of his phone on his pillow. He groans, blinking blearily when he sees the phone illuminating his room, and grabs it, staring at the time-- _ Jesus, it’s three am, what the fuck _ \--and stares in surprise for a moment when he sees who it is.

“Tony? Not that I don’t love hearing your voice but… why are you calling me at ass’o clock in the morning?” he groans into the phone, pressing it to his ear.

There’s a sniffle from the other side, and instantly Clint is awake.  _ “Shit, sorry,” _ Tony mumbles into the phone, voice sounding awfully muffled.  _ “I shouldn’t have woken you up.” _ He sounds much more subdued than usual.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Clint says hurriedly, already climbing out of bed and getting dressed. “Tony, are you okay?”

_ “Yeah,” _ Tony says, probably going for flippant, but it comes out pathetic and nasally.  _ “Don’t worry about me.” _ There’s a muffled cough, and a mutter of  _ “shit” _ .

Clint heads into the elevator, and JARVIS doesn’t even need to be prompted, taking him straight to Tony’s floor. “Dude, are you sick?” He sets a brisk pace for Tony’s room.

_ “No,” _ Tony sniffles unconvincingly. When Clint doesn’t answer with anything more than a sigh, Tony mutters,  _ “Yes…” _

“It’s okay,” Clint says soothingly as he makes his way through the hallways to find Tony’s room. “I’m outside your room, can I come in?”

_ “What?” _ Tony squawks and immediately breaks off into a coughing fit. When he stops, he adds,  _ “No, it’s okay, go back to sleep!” _ He sounds panicky, like he’s scared of being caught less than healthy.

“I’m out here already,” Clint points out, keeping his voice gentle. “Might as let me in.”

There’s a short silence.  _ “Okay,” _ Tony says, finally, and Clint opens the door, hanging up.

In the room, Clint spots Tony curled up on the bed, blankets wrapped around him as he cradles the phone in his hands. “Hey,” Clint calls, and Tony looks up, looking absolutely miserable.

“Sorry,” he whispers nearly inaudibly as Clint sits down on the bed, resting a cautious hand on his shoulder.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Clint says, running a hand through Tony’s sweaty hair and winces at the heat radiating off of him. “Jesus, that’s one hell of a fever.”

“We’re missing our first date,” Tony murmurs, shuffling around so he can wrap his arms around Clint’s waist. “I’m sorry.”

“We can have another one,” Clint promises, lying down and shifting so he can return Tony’s embrace, burying his face in Tony’s hair and ignoring the heat. “Your health is more important.”

Tony makes a sputtering noise into Clint’s shirt, and Clint smiles into his hair. “God, you are such a sap,” Tony complains, swatting Clint’s back weakly.

“So are you,” Clint retorts, pulling the blankets up around them. “Okay, go to sleep. You need your rest. We can talk about some medicine once your fever goes down a bit.”

Tony huffs, breath hot against Clint’s neck. “Yes, yes,” he says sleepily, settling down with Clint.

As Clint drifts off, Tony in his arms, he sighs contentedly and figures that it’s not a date, but it isn’t the worst way to spend Valentine’s Day.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me about my late shit over at kyasuu!!


End file.
